


Slipstream Above Me

by taormina



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Asexual Matt Murdock, Coming Out, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 20:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10395426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taormina/pseuds/taormina
Summary: "Minutes passed by before the men looked at each other again, but when they did, they did so with love and comfort; and with sheer warmth like the kisses they’d shared on a hot summer’s day; because at the end of the day, you don’t need to make love to create it."Or: that time when Matt admits ‘sex is not his thing’ and Boyfriend of the Year Frank Castle is completely okay with it.





	

Frank had no idea what to expect when he and Matt started seeing each other two months ago. The whole thing had happened so naturally that it might as well have been set up by Cupid or the God Frank no longer believed in. The two of them meeting had been no more than a random series of events put carefully in motion by the hands of fate, and their infatuation had happened just the same. In other words, they were meant to be.

Frank had always imagined Matt would be as righteous in his love life as he was on his missions: doing things by the book; going Dutch; never doing anything that’d get them into trouble — like kissing in public or getting it on on top of a rooftop. Frank was fine with that. He liked it. Or rather, he liked the _idea_ of it. Frank generally played by his own rules, and sometimes no rules at all, and to date someone he might be able to render a blushing mess every other night was all part of the fun. He’d make Matt turn the same colour as his Daredevil suit, and he’d do it _well_. That he was sure of.

Then their first ever date happened, and it was . . . different.

It was a warm Thursday evening. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky, and every couple in Hell’s Kitchen was accompanied by the happy singsong of birds as they softly tread the city pavements, hand in hand. As though the universe had stopped to conspire against them, Frank and Matt had chosen a day when not a single siren sounded, and those that did were the sirens of fire trucks, speeding through city streets to save a cat from the top of a tree. Not a single thug or criminal mastermind would stop them from having the first date fate had arranged for them. So far so good.

While he’d had his fair share of sex, Frank had not been on a traditional date for a few years, and his expectations were high. He assumed they’d eat something at a restaurant somewhere, maybe kiss in public afterwards, and then head back home together for a shared nightcap — but Matt had different ideas, and took Frank walking through a crowded park on a summer day instead.

Matt’s reasons for choosing the park were simple. He liked to hear the leaves above him rustle in the wind, or so he said, and he just _loved_ to talk on a park bench that felt wet and grainy underneath his touch. He thought it was rather romantic. And if he tried hard, really very hard, Matt could even make out the blurred reds and oranges that made up his imperfect vision of the sun going down on the park’s gravel paths.

In the park, time was rather unfair to those who were in love or about to be. Time passed by quickly, and it always made lovers wonder how the world had faded to black quite so soon. But it was good while it lasted; here, Frank and Matt could just be two boyfriends who didn’t have ties to a world where the grass wasn’t greener and where flowers didn’t bloom quite so easily. Here, Daredevil and the Punisher didn’t exist.

Matt blushed throughout their conversation. Sometimes, if he was feeling particularly brave, he’d even take Frank’s hand and hold it, briefly, and feel how soft and warm it felt inside his own. But he never took Frank to a restaurant or got drunk with him. There also weren’t many kisses, and the one that Frank did manage to steal from him was perfectly innocent: a quick peck on the lips that infatuated children often claim as their first. Frank’s hands wandered up Matt’s sides in an effort to connect, but Matt’s did not. They remained at his sides the entire time.

Still — at the end of the day, the men did separate with many manic butterflies manifesting in their bellies; the sign of a good night out.

They went on another date five days later. It was similar to the first one: they walked through even lovelier parts of the park, they talked, they kissed, and Matt never once laughed at Frank’s dirty jokes or initiated a deeper moment of intimacy. He also went quite unresponsive when Frank mentioned another couple’s frankly exhibitionistic behaviour on the next park bench. _Weird._

Matt himself didn’t think his own behaviour was that odd, but then again he hadn’t been on many dates to compare the ones with Frank with. Frank privately concluded that Matt must not be a ‘sex on the second date’ sort of guy and tried to put it behind him, but something did feel worryingly strange.

They went on a third date regardless. This time, it took place at Frank’s apartment, which Frank had found very promising indeed.

Alas, Frank walked Matt out that night feeling slightly disappointed. For while the talks were better than ever and the kisses had become more and more frequent, Matt never seemed to want to do _more_ : to make love; to experience each other’s damaged bodies on Frank’s sofa. But it was a farfetched dream, for even a kiss on the neck made Matt turn as scarlet as the morning sky, and not in a good way.

Predictably, the lack of sex filled Frank’s usually so confident mind with a million irrational thoughts, each more ridiculous than the last: did Matt even like him? Was he still a virgin? Was Matt playing a very elaborate game of ‘hard to get’? Had Frank misread the signs and mistaken Matt’s need to become better partners for something else? Was Frank going crazy? (At one point, he even wondered if his clothes smelling of dog had anything to do with it, which he later concluded was an absolutely ridiculous idea.)

But then Frank thought back to the dates they’d already been on, and how wonderfully Matt had kissed him and held his hand in the in the summer rain; and how good it felt to even be near him, to have Matt’s trust as both a partner and a lover; and he realised with a pang that the lack of sex did not actually matter _because it did not matter to Matt_.

So when Frank one day dropped the dirty jokes and stopped letting his hands wander, that’s when Matt finally opened up to him. It’s like he’d been waiting for Frank to catch on. Like fire slowly spreading through a dry forest, the flames of realization that licked at Frank’s feet and softened his touch had somehow made Matt softer, too.

It happened on a date night like any other, with the wind softly howling against Matt’s apartment, soft city sounds pouring in through the window. The apartment was warm but a gentle breeze made everything perfect. The smell of their previous meal still stained the air, and dog hair covered Matt’s wonderfully formal suit and tie, but as usual Frank was oblivious to the minuteness of it all. He just ate, and drank coffee, and kissed Matt’s mouth if Matt let him, and he was so lost in his love that he’d never have seen Matt’s next words coming even if he were a clairvoyant.

‘I know these dates can’t have been easy, Frank.’

The dog sat up, suddenly tense and expectant, while Frank’s face contorted into a puzzled frown. It was an unexpected little thing that Matt had just said, for they’d been talking about whether or not dogs were better than cats only two minutes ago. (Dogs _were_ better, obviously. A _lot_ better. It was not even worth having this discussion.)

‘What do you mean, Red?’

Matt explained himself with little inhibition, like he’d rehearsed these words. ‘Not sleeping with me, I mean,’ he’d said with the air of someone who was talking about something as ordinary as, indeed, pets, cars, or the recent bout of pleasant weather that had driven even the most home-bound citizens of Hell’s Kitchen outside. ‘I could tell that you wanted to.’

These words were so apropos of nothing that Frank had to dig deep in his mind to find the thread of the conversation. What _was_ he talking about? What did this have to do with anything?

Then Frank remembered Matt’s behavior, and the penny dropped. So they were going to talk about _that_!

‘ _Oh._ ’ Frank glanced up, more impressed than surprised. ‘You could tell by my heartbeat, huh?’

‘I could tell by a lot of things, Frank.’ Matt gave Frank the most grateful smile he could manage. It was almost apologetic. ‘Thank you for not pushing me. I appreciate that.’

‘Guess there wasn’t any point trying to.’ Frank shuffled on his seat on the sofa a little uncomfortably, then repositioned the pillows behind him and sat straighter, like he was physically trying to ease into the conversation. He thought hard about his next words. ‘I literally felt you tense up when I tried to kiss your neck on our third date. You don’t even do that on our missions. Tense up, I mean. You’re usually damn calm about everything, you know, so I figured there must be something real weird going on.’ He shrugged then. ‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s not so weird.’

‘I’ve been meaning to apologise for that, by the way. You _are_ a good kisser, Frank.’

‘I know, that’s what got me thinking, Red.’

They both laughed a relieved sort of laugh at that, the kind that instantly lifts the air and brings things back to the familiar, and they spoke no more for a few moments.

This unexpected exchange certainly explained _some_ of the things Frank had been worried about, but not _all of them_. So Matt was grateful that Frank hadn’t tried sleeping with him — but what did that actually mean? Frank had always been with people who wanted no more than a one-night stand, and those who did stick around for longer always ended up abandoning him because of how high-maintenance he was. Whatever that meant.

Especially after the loss of his family, Frank spent a lot of nights trying to capture and contain every smattering of love he’d come across. Usually, he’d mistake sex for love and find it terribly disappointing. But he loved it still. He loved foreplay, and kisses, and needy, shaky touches underneath tables or blankets, and he cherished each climax because it was an even better high than feeling the weight of his gun in his hand and pulling the trigger.

Clearly, Matt didn’t feel the same. Then again, did he ever?

Frank didn’t want to ask any awkward questions, but he felt like he had to. ‘So I guess sex ain’t your thing, huh?’

The idea evidently struck a chord of humour in Matt. He almost sounded impressed. ‘At this point, most people just ask me if I’m still a virgin.’

It had crossed Frank’s mind, but he didn’t want to push. ‘ _Are_ you?’

‘No.’

Frank felt a little embarrassed to even have had to ask the question, and he mumbled a quick ‘sorry’ underneath his breath. The Matt Murdock Frank knew was not an innocent. He was _Daredevil_ , the rule-abiding attorney who donned a red suit so that he would not be reminded of the blood he had on his hands. Of course he’d had sex. He might even have had it a few times. But he probably hadn’t enjoyed it.

‘You enjoy it, then? Your first time?’

Matt made a face as if the question conjured up a particularly unpleasant memory. ‘No. No, I didn’t, Frank.’

Curiosity almost made Frank ask Matt what his first time was like exactly, but then his dog interrupted the conversation and spared Matt from ever having to answer. Matt almost seemed glad that the dog had prevented further query.

‘So sex ain’t your thing,’ Frank reiterated instead. He couldn’t really judge Matt for it, since it was little more than a fact.

‘It isn’t.’ Matt looked as though there was more he wanted to add, but in the end, he just gave a shy smile and awaited Frank’s response.

‘Why?’

Matt shrugged as though he’d never really thought about it. His face had made a sudden transition to quiet melancholy that Frank had rarely ever witnessed. ‘I’m . . . I’m _blind_ , Frank. I can’t see what people look like, but I do know what they’re like, deep down. I just do. I can hear how other people feel by just hearing their heartbeats, and every kiss, every — every _word_ tells me everything I need to know about someone.’ He blushed. ‘I mean, I know I keep saying I like you for your personality, but I also know you’re extremely handsome, Frank.’

Frank let out a pleased chuckle. ‘You’re not wrong, Red. We make a very handsome couple, you know.’

This somewhat made Matt lose the train of his thought, and he blushed even more. Assuming he needed to clarify himself further, to prove that he wasn’t a prude or an innocent altar boy or an uptight little Christian, Matt tried to focus on the question that had never even been a question in his mind.

‘I guess I don’t need it. Sex, I mean.’ Matt pronounced the word like it was some boring domestic task or a foreign delicacy he wasn’t particularly fond of. ‘I don’t . . . need it to know how someone feels about me. Or the other way around. I never have. And I just don’t like it, Frank,’ Matt added with an indifferent shrug, as if his previous two explanations hadn’t already been enough.

Knowing the value of silence, Frank said nothing as he considered everything he’d just learned. Sure, it was a little odd that Matt didn’t enjoy sex, but then again — was it _really_? Matt sure never made a big deal of Frank detesting cats, or hating beverages that weren’t coffee, or preferring to punch thugs senseless instead of handing them over to the police (all right, Matt _did_ make a big deal of _that_ ), and wasn’t this just the same thing? 

So they weren’t going to have sex. Probably ever. So what? They could still kiss and hang out and hold hands and wake up together if Matt wanted to. It wouldn’t be any different than what they were doing already, and having sex, while great – really, really great –, probably wouldn’t add anything new to their relationship either. After all, did it ever? Had the sex Frank had enjoyed in recent months really been more than just a mind-numbing exercise? Had Frank recently missed sex at all, or did he just think he did because of the pressures of what it’s like to have a relationship?

Maybe. Maybe not. His own thoughts were hardly relevant; Matt’s were.

(And truth be told, Frank reckoned it would rather be a bother what with Matt always wearing that Daredevil suit of his. How did Matt even get _into_ it? One moment he’d be wearing his formal white shirt and pants, the next he’d be all suited up, ready to go. How did he do it? Frank just didn’t know.)

Frank hadn’t answered immediately but averted his gaze, lost in thought. Finally, he gave a short nod as if to say these were all really fair comments, then flashed a smile at his partner and hoped Matt would know he was smiling. ‘You know — it sounds to me like you’re just a big romantic, you know, Red. A real big romantic. You sure you still wanna fight crime with me? Cos I can get a new partner if it’s gonna be a big issue for you.’

He’d said it mockingly, but every word was quietly sincere. He’d instantly accepted this side of Matt. Of course he had. And how couldn’t he? Matt was his lover, after all, and hadn’t the dates they’d been on not been absolutely wonderful? They didn’t need more than that.

Frank could not pretend to entirely comprehend Matt’s feelings, or lack thereof, but whether he did or not hardly mattered. Frank’s only thought was for the wellbeing of his boyfriend, and the thought that Matt had even confided in him at all made him feel a joy unlike any he’d felt before. If they weren’t lovers before, they certainly were now. Before, they’d only had each other’s love; now, they had each other’s trust, binding them together and giving them comfort.

They’d said everything they wanted to say. Frank wrapped an arm round Matt’s body and held him, tight, in the soft and soothing manner that he knew Matt preferred. It filled the both of them with a surge of gratitude in their hearts. Even Frank’s dog gave a satisfied little bark before dozing off and happily leaving his two pets to it.  

Minutes passed by before the men looked at each other again, but when they did, they did so with love and comfort; and with sheer warmth like the kisses they’d shared on a hot summer’s day; because at the end of the day, you don’t need to make love to create it.


End file.
